


Going Home

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Poor Sabine never expected this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:59:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Sometimes home doesn't mean what it used to.





	Going Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fandumbandflummery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandumbandflummery/gifts).



It’s strange to be home again, Sabine thinks, as she lays awake at night, staring at the ceiling of her old bedroom.  It’s still decorated the exact way she’d left it when she went to the Imperial Academy, and it fits her the way she imagines her old beskar’gam would if she tried it on - too small and tight and confining.  

This isn’t home anymore.  Home is the Ghost, with the hum of engines under her feet, the sound of Zeb and Ezra arguing in their room, the way Hera laughs when Kanan makes a silly joke.  It’s the stale scent of old durasteel mixed with new paint, the faint ammonia of fresh hair dye under it all.  It’s the close quarters, bumping shoulders with everyone (especially Zeb) as they pass in the cramped hallways.  That’s her home now, not the frigid air of Krownest, the icy palettes and the way the moon reflects off snow into her window.  It feels weird to  _ have _ a window, to be able to see a  _ planet _ outside, familiar but not welcoming anymore.  

Sabine rolls over, not wanting to see the ice where she fought Saxon, where her mother executed him to save her.  It feels like a hollow victory, knowing what it means for her family.  She looks at the Darksaber, resting on her old easel, looking so  _ ordinary _ despite the symbolism.  Despite the weight it puts on her shoulders.  She never wanted it, but it’s her responsibility now.  Kanan would say that was a good thing - those who  _ want _ power usually don’t deserve it.  She just feels like such a  _ kid _ , how could she lead all of Mandalore?  That feeling is only multiplied when she looks around at the bedroom where she grew up.  She doesn’t feel much older than she did then.

She doesn’t want to think about all this.  It’ll be there in the morning, and more besides.  Instead, she closes her eyes, tries to imagine the way the Ghost purrs like a lothcat when it’s running smooth, conjures the sounds of familiar, warm voices, and lets the image lull her to sleep.


End file.
